


Christening

by Annehiggins



Series: Bring It On (Bito) [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an urban legend/tradition about the captain's chair. Of course, much to Bones' irritation, Jim wants to give it a go. Introspection and sex -- in that order. Posted to Live Journal June 10, 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christening

  
**Christening**  
By Anne Higgins

Molecules rip apart, then reform. By all rights it should hurt like hell, and it aggravates the fuck out of Dr. Leonard McCoy that it doesn't, because he can't help bracing himself against the expected agony. Except there isn't any. Which makes him feel like an idiot and puts the transporter high on his list of Irritating Things. The 'I know what you're thinking smirk' on his husband's face would be another thing on the list. Come to think of it, a lot of things James T. Kirk did were on that list.

He narrowed his eyes at Jim, who smirked even harder, then said, "Energize." A swirl of lights, a mild tugging sensation, then the walls of their now former dorm room, gave way to a transporter station aboard the _USS Enterprise._

"Welcome aboard, Captain, Doctor," Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott greeted them with his usual cheery enthusiasm. Yes, that was on the list, too. Leonard had a general distrust of overly cheery people, but Jim trusted the man, and he had proven himself more than once during their encounter with Nero. So while Leonard stubbornly held to his ire over things that should hurt, but didn't, he pretty much had gotten over more than the occasional stab of irritation at the man's exuberance.

"Morning, Scotty," Jim greeted with equal enthusiasm, but Leonard loved Jim, so he forgave him a few faults.

"Mr. Scott," he said with a nod of greeting.

"I'll be beaming your personnel belongings straight to your quarters," he told them. A ridiculous waste of a chief engineer's time, but it was tradition that he extend the courtesy to the captain and his command staff. None of whom would normally have beamed aboard with the captain, but this particular chief medical officer also happened to be the captain's husband, so Jim had insisted he come along for the transporter ride. He'd muttered something along the lines of it being the closest he could come to carrying Leonard over the threshold.

The mental picture had made Leonard roll his eyes – as if Jim would do the carrying if there was any carrying to do (more than a few drunken benders over the last three years having proved the truth of that) -- still he'd kissed the sentimental fool, then had taken his place at Jim's side for the transport.

"Now, I know you'll be wanting to take a look around the ship," Scotty went on, "but if you have a sec, I'd like to discuss a wee upgrade for the nacelles."

He rolled his eyes again both at the idea of a 'wee upgrade' and the way Jim's face lit up. Every single member of the 'senior' crew – yes, including himself – was young for the job and a certified genius in their field of expertise. Add a healthy dose of what Leonard thought of as 'essence of mad scientist' and you ended up with Montgomery Scott. It led to … interesting ideas and the one absolute rule of the ship – _any_ idea was welcomed, but there would be **_no_** unauthorized trial runs. And yes, that included Scotty's still. The time Jim, Chekov and Scotty had spent pouring over the specs on that monstrosity. … On the other hand, the product it produced did tend to rival at least the good cheap stuff.

Leonard decided his energy and blood pressure would be better served someplace where he didn't need to overhear the latest scheme. "Jim, I'll just –"

"Meet me on the bridge in fifteen minutes."

He shot a glare at Jim's back and Scotty's unsuccessful attempt at hiding a knowing smirk. He stalked out of the transporter room, leaving Jim to wonder whether or not he would keep the appointment. Not that there was much doubt. Leonard had always had a tendency to humor Jim. Now that they were married, it had reached alarming proportions.

At least having some sense of priorities, he headed for sickbay first. He didn't pass anyone in the corridors, which didn't surprise him. The ship was fairly empty at the moment, and would be until tomorrow morning when the bulk of the crew reported for duty. Normally, the captain wouldn't be on board yet, either. But patience never had much to do with Jim Kirk and he'd wanted to spend the night in their quarters, not the dorm. Hell, if Jim had had his way, they would have beamed up last night, but they'd been celebrating after the ceremony giving him official command of the Enterprise and it was a hell of a lot easier to collapse one last time in their dorm room.

Given the small amount of time he had, he couldn't do the thorough check he'd need to do before they left space dock, but Leonard made a circle through sickbay. His sickbay. He tried not to think about the weight of that too much. Like most of the crew he was going straight from the Academy into a situation he normally would have spent years working towards. There were a few exceptions on board, but more than a few of the older hands who had been assigned to Pike's command had opted not to join Jim's. They hadn't wanted to take orders from a bunch of kids, no matter how brilliant or heroic. Cynic that he was, Leonard didn't blame them. Much.

He noted Scotty had made the few equipment improvements Leonard had suggested, and he knew it was more than a good bet the non-visible upgrades had all been completed, too. That was one of the heady things about rank. An idea tended to happen versus getting back-burnered. One of the things he didn't think it would prove too painful to get used to.

He stepped out into the corridor, then onto the turbo lift all of two feet from the doors of sickbay. Convenient and necessary – in an emergency seconds counted and it could get him and his medical teams to any place on the ship quickly if the transporters weren't an option. Right now he could have used a little less speed, as it still pissed him off that Jim had made certain Scotty knew where they'd be, but no point in stalling.

The doors opened and he walked out onto the bridge before it hit him that he hadn't been up here since Jim and Spock had beamed aboard the _Narada._ He'd been too busy performing surgery on Pike and tending to other patients to leave sickbay for more than the time needed to eat, then grab a few precious hours of sleep curled around Jim.

Too busy. With medical needs, with anger at Ambassador Spock, with being a newlywed – too fucking busy to really think about everything that had happened and what he had, or had not done. He'd snuck Jim aboard the ship. Something he should have been court-martialed for, but had been a large part of his own commendation for meritorious service. He'd done his duty as a doctor and managed the sudden additional responsibilities as chief medical officer with enough skill no one denied he'd earned the permanent spot on Jim's crew. He'd managed to hold his own, even contribute to the pre-battle planning. That covered the 'hads.'

It was the 'had nots' that made his knees suddenly weak and sent him collapsing into the nearest chair. Caught between his unease over Spock's decision to meet up with the fleet and his disapproval over Jim's open, belligerent defiance of Spock's authority, he had not supported Jim when he'd tried to convince Spock to head for Earth. Fairly certain they would all end up dead and Jim would be safer off the ship, he had not stopped Spock from marooning Jim on Delta Vega. Jim's report on what had happened there still gave him nightmares.

Trapped by a sickbay full of people who needed him, he had not insisted on going with Jim and left him to face a primitive planet on his own (although he acknowledged his presence would have at least gotten himself, if not Jim, killed, or at least delayed Jim to the point Earth was destroyed, but still. …) And worst of all, he had not done _anything_ when Jim had provoked Spock into attacking him, strangling him. If Sarek hadn't called out to Spock and snapped him out of his frenzy, he might have killed Jim while Leonard simply stood there and watched.

Part of him had known what Jim was doing. Had even debated in his own mind if it were better to use his CMO authority and relieve Spock of his duty or leave him in command. But to stand there and do nothing long beyond the point where he should have grabbed a phaser or a hypo or a fucking piece of paneling and knocked the bastard out. … Spock could have killed Jim. Could have crushed his trachea. Could have twisted instead of squeezed and broken Jim's neck. Could have.

All while the man, the fucking doctor, who loved him stood and watched. What the hell had he been thinking? No, that was the problem. He hadn't thought, he'd gone with a conditioned response instead. In the last few years he'd waited through more than one brawl to patch Jim up. Loss of life had never been an issue during those fights, and he'd quickly developed a 'damnit, I'm a doctor, not a prize fighter' attitude and had let Jim reap what he'd tried so hard to sow. In the absence of any other frame of reference, he'd done the same thing that day on the bridge. Well, fuck that. School was out and the stakes had gone up to potentially lethal. That meant interfering, and still a doctor, not a prize fighter – or a security officer charged with carrying a phaser onboard ship. So better living through drugs it was.

He'd not had a sedative with him then because, contrary to Jim's belief, he didn't carry a fucking hypo with him everywhere he went. There was one in the first aid station on the bridge, but it was one item among many. Given this was Jim's fucking ship, he'd bet the farm his ex-wife had gotten in the divorce settlement that all sorts of insane shit would happen, and he'd need that particular tool far more than any reasonable person would guess.

Scowling, he got to his feet and started looking. By the time the turbo lift doors swooshed open, Leonard had already found four good possibilities and was flat on his back examining a recess under Uhura's command station as a fifth. "Do I even want to know?" Jim asked.

"No," he answered. "But I'm finding hiding places for sedatives." He'd gauge them for a standard fast dose, but he'd set them up so a quick twist of the wrist would increase the dosage enough to take out an enraged Vulcan. Or a charging elephant, whichever came first.

"Bones," Jim whined, like he always did when the subject of hypos came up.

"Don't be such a baby," he muttered getting to his feet. "And remember Starfleet gave me a medal for jabbing you the last time. I might want another one."

Jim glared at him. "That was for innovative thinking. It's not innovative if it's a pattern."

A smile tried hard to twitch onto Leonard's face. "What can I say? I love my work."

"Sadist."

"More like a masochist," he admitted, slipping his arms around Jim to take any of the sting out of his words when he added, "I fell in love with you."

Jim made a show of considering the idea, then shook his head. "Nah, that's good taste, not masochism."

He rolled his eyes, mostly because he knew Jim would be disappointed if he didn't, and resisted the urge to call him a brat. Not because he hadn't earned the title – more times than Leonard could possibly count – but he couldn't afford the habit. Call him that in private too often and it was bound to spill out in front of the crew. At the worst possible moment. So, no.

"Besides, you're no cake walk, either." Between words Jim pressed a series of little kisses along Leonard's jaw line. "I can tell you're trying to go all moody bitch on me, and you know I have plans."

Oh, yeah, that reminded him. "Any reason why I should cooperate given you made certain the whole ship would know?" Scotty had his useful points, but he seemed to have no filter when it came to gossip.

"It's part of the tradition."

He rolled his eyes again. "You know as well as I do that Pike didn't do this."

Jim made the sort of face one only made when contemplating parents – or parental figures – in this sort of situation. "Didn't have time." Which was how they knew – it wasn't like anyone was going to ask him for God's sake. "And … even if he did, no one knows so it doesn't count." He grinned his best triumphant grin, and Leonard hated to admit it, but Jim had a point. Or at least would have if the whole thing wasn't ridiculous.

He opened his mouth to say so – for the tenth time – but Jim, the bastard, used the opportunity to stick his tongue down Leonard's throat. Despite his best efforts, his mood lifted. Along with other parts of his anatomy. "Get naked," he murmured, when Jim drew back.

Another triumphant grin; a fast, smacking kiss; then Jim moved out of his arms and stripped. He made a show of it. First his boots – unzip, gentle fling (because one wouldn't want to hit a panel full of control buttons), then the other. His shirt and black undershirt next. Hard to do an overhead pull and make it look sexy, but Jim managed by getting his head free, then slowly sliding off the sleeves like they were long satin gloves.

Leonard groaned softly his trousers rapidly growing too tight, and he clenched his fists as he fought not to stalk over to Jim and take him immediately. Would serve him right, but the kid had a plan, so he stayed still and watched.

Down to uniform trousers, Jim gave him a sexy smirk, then popped the button of his fly. Zipper down, and he began to rock his hips in a gentle up and down motion that made the cloth slowly slide down his legs, revealing a skimpy pair of black satin briefs.

His mouth watered at the impressive bulge tenting the briefs and his own cock clamored for freedom as even the briefs slowly moved down Jim's long, muscular legs. God. "Sexiest damned bastard alive," he muttered.

Jim smiled, a soft pleased one, instead of the hard, glittering smile Leonard had seen him give a hundred assorted conquests praising his face or body. He did a sort of pirouette to turn to face his chair. Yeah, the chair. Tradition, urban legend, scuttlebutt, whatever, had it that every captain always christened the chair with something a lot more personal than champagne. Of course, it was supposed to be a solo effort, but ever the maverick, not to mention the newlywed, Jim had insisted on a … joint project.

He poked a couple of buttons and the controls on the arm rests went dark – deactivated against an inadvertent touch. He bent at the waist, then grasped his ass, pulling the cheeks apart so Leonard could see the glisten of lube on his hole. "I'm all ready for you," he said, his voice husky with anticipation and need. He let go, braced his arms on the armrests, then spread his legs as far apart as they could go and still let him stand without fear of falling.

Still certain this was beyond crazy, but found himself too turned on to even contemplate, let alone utter an appropriate remark about the lunacy of Jim Kirk. Instead, with a growl, he stalked over to his husband, his own erection bursting free of its confines the moment he jerked his zipper down. Grasping Jim's hips, he shoved into all that tight, lovely heat.

Jim made a squeaking sound, but he shoved backwards to prevent Leonard from easing his entry. "Want it rough, do you?" he murmured, giving the nearest earlobe a nip.

"God, yes," Jim moaned.

"Hang on then," he ordered, then settled into the sort of hard, pounding rhythm Jim loved when he wanted to feel a coupling hours later. Back until only the head remained inside, then a fast shove forward to balls deep, over and over, faster and faster, harder and harder, while Jim moaned and writhed back against him, wanting even more. Hell with hours later, be more like a day if not longer, and the gorgeous sex maniac would want to fuck again at least twice more between now and then. Time to end this. He shifted his stance so each stroke hit Jim's prostate, making him howl with pleasure and protest as he figured out what Leonard was doing.

"Shut up and come!" he snapped and bit down on Jim's shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Jim went rigid and white streaks of fluid burst over the black faux-leather of the chair. The tight clench of Jim's body around his length, the sight of the chair, made Leonard come with a shout.

Somehow he managed to hold them both up when Jim sagged like his knees were trying to give way, and they both stood there gasping for breath. After a minute or two, Jim reached out with a slightly uncoordinated hand and rubbed his come into the chair.

Leonard rolled his eyes and let him fall – okay, he turned him and let him slide gently into the chair, but the thought to let him fall on his ass was there. Before he could decide what to do with himself, Jim grabbed hold of him and pulled him down to sit on the chair with him. Damned thing was big enough for two spent lovers, so he let him. He scowled a minute or so later when Jim started squirming, like he was trying to rub something in with his ass. … Oh. He wanted Leonard's seed as well as his own in the chair.

Couldn't decide if this was romantic or disturbing, so he held his peace.

Jim had apparently stopped leaking and squirmed around to sit in Leonard's lap instead of on the chair. Once he'd gotten himself curled up and comfy, he looked like a man all settled in for a nap.

Figuring he lacked the energy to get out of here anyway, Leonard resigned himself to playing a cushion, but he couldn't quite resist pointing out, "You know the chair self-cleans."

"Uh huh."

"Then the point of all this was?"

"I'll know we did it," he said smiling against Leonard's neck. "And so will you."

Yeah, he would. Be weeks before he'd be able to look at the damned thing and not worry about blushing. He sighed. "It's a good thing I love you."

"I think so."

He'd have swatted Jim if it wouldn't have been redundant given how sore his backside had to be, so he gave into a different temptation, "Brat."

"Uh huh. Your brat," he whispered, drifting off to sleep.

Yes, he was. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of Jim's head. And thank God for that.

end


End file.
